Falling Into Insanity
by Zoey Overbeck
Summary: The pinkette shouldn't exist anymore. The pinkette held memories of happiness... of broken dreams... of friendship and camaraderie that she didn't care to remember, of memories she never wanted to recall- not now, not ever.


Inspirational music:

_Serenata- _Immediate Music

_Crimson Tide_- Theme

* * *

><p><strong><em>Betrayal<em>**

The word briefly flickered in Aelita's mind before the thought itself was brutally quashed. Her already battered mind did not need to be reminded of what had happened less than a month ago.

She fingered the hunting knife she had obtained a few months ago from Ulrich, who had tried to get her interested in the "great outdoors". While she herself did not do any actual hunting, it was extremely helpful while she went camping. It was always wonderful to hide away in a tent and get away from the troubles in the modern world.

She loved lying on the ground and looking at the stars, spending hours upon hours gazing upon the many planets and other celestial bodies that decorated the solar system as well as the universe. She loved how her inner turmoil were made infinitesimally smaller- a female's emotional problems lost in a group with over seven billion people in the world, shrunk a trillion times smaller as the unbridled universe continued to expand.

She turned the gifted knife over in her hands thoughtfully before holding it gently, examining its simple beauty. The blade glinted in the soft moonlight, reflecting the pale rays the celestial body provided through the sliding glass door.

Aelita turned away from the view, her mouth drawn in a frown and eyebrows creased in worry.

"5 minutes…" she breathed quietly to herself as if speaking the words would solve all her worries."Just five more minutes…"

Jeremie exhaled softly, dead to the world as he slumbered on a bed littered with pillows and blankets. A flicker of rage crossed Aelita's mind as she gazed upon his sleeping form, whipping her mind into a frenzied loathing to what he had done, how he had stuck the figurative dagger into her back when she least expected it. She would never forgive him completely for that, nor forget.

She chewed her bottom lip as conflicting feelings tore through her mind, overlapping each other and fighting for dominance. She narrowed her eyes and scowled; a low growl escaped her throat. Happier recollections were swept away with ones tainted with depression and indescribable anger. All laughter and friendship were forgotten, and deep enmity surfaced. Madness overcame her, and primal senses were awakened.

Her grip on the weapon tightened and she had the sudden unexplainable urge to stick the blade in his chest, to pounce upon him while he was at his most vulnerable state. She wanted to see the white covers take on an interesting shade of red as his life-blood spilled, to forever change the course of the future, to hear his cries of terror and pleas for help as she took a bite out of his jugular vein and-

She stopped, mentally berating herself. Aelita Schaeffer was definitely _not _a murderess in any shape or form. She shouldn't be thinking of this. She had found other ways to solve this problem without blood being shed.

Her grip faltered, and the blade fell to the carpeted ground. Aelita backed away from the weapon in horror, clutching a hand to her heart and thinking of what she might have did if she had let the rage fully consume her being and went ahead with what she had planned to do in that mere fraction of a minute.

How could she have even let _those _types of thoughts cross her mind? How could she have let rage take control, if not for a few minutes?

She fled to the bathroom, sobbing quietly and holding her head in her hands as she leaned heavily on the dark grey granite counter.

"I'm a monster…" she mumbled to herself, feeling the hot, stinging tears roll down her reddened cheeks, washing away some of the makeup she had applied just fifteen minutes before.

Aelita let her hands slide down and gazed upon her reflection in the large, tri-paneled mirror before looking away. She knew what the mirror contained.

If she looked up, there would be the face of a young woman with stunning emerald eyes staring back at her with vibrant pink hair instead of long brown hair hurriedly tied into a green ponytail.

She wanted to destroy the mirror so badly, to punch the object with all her strength, shatter the glass, and feel the blood run down her glass-embedded nails. She wanted to scream, to punish herself for her failures as well as for enduring undeserved pain and suffering.

**WRONG!**

She stifled a howl at the grandfather clock's chime as it began to call out the time, the great booming noise echoing from its resting place downstairs to reach her secluded room. Everything was wrong!

**WRONG!**

The pinkette couldn't exist anymore. The pinkette shouldn't exist anymore. The pinkette held memories of happiness with a certain male, of broken dreams of what should have come. It held memories of the past, of friendship and camaraderie that she didn't care to remember, of memories she never wanted to recall- not now, not ever.

**WRONG!**

She pulled herself up and glanced at her reflection one last time as the last chime of the grandfather clock faded away.

The jovial and naive pink haired woman holding the key to her past had disappeared, and in her place was a pony-tailed lady, stern and reticent, opening the door to a new future. A few strands of dyed hair hung over her eyes, but she did not bother with them. She was too busy peering at her image, silently taking in her haggard appearance- unkempt hair, dark circles forming under her tired eyes, her skin pale, and the hungry look of a person unable to find what he or she was looking for.

Her mascara had run down her face, forming black lines that split into smaller ones. She wiped them away furiously with a wrist and watched in mute fascination as the warm water from the tap washed the substance away before she cut the water flow. Perhaps she wished she could slip away as quietly and quickly as the tear-soaked mascara in that same moment.

Perhaps she was simply falling into insanity.

Her cell phone vibrated in her jeans pocket, but she didn't bother answering it. She knew who was calling.

Aelita retrieved the carry-on luggage bags she had hidden away and donned her purse. She left the luggage at the foot of the stairwell and sneaked back into the bedroom to retrieve her coat. She gave Jeremie one last fleeting glance before she drew her face close to his cheek and pressed her lips against it.

"I'm sorry, Jeremie" she whispered as she pulled away and left only a red lipstick print.

She slipped into the darkness with her luggage and entered the taxicab that was parked in front of her- no, the house. It wasn't her home anymore. She ran a hand through her freshly dyed hair and wrapped her favorite dark red coat tightly around her body. There was no turning back now. She had already secretly set her monetary and identity affairs in order.

Aelita glanced out the window just in time to see the first few drops of rain the weatherman had predicted mere hours earlier.

"Where to, miss?" the driver asked in a thick French accent as he backed the car out of the brick driveway.

"Charles De Gaulle Airport" she simply replied softly, never taking her eyes off of the scenery that lay before her.

The nameless driver nodded in response and drove onto the relatively empty highway, soon blending in with the few cars that sped down the paved roadway.

The rest of the ride continued wordlessly, with only the taxi's meter's rhythmic clicking punctuating the silence.

Aelita sat in the backseat, leaning as far out as the seat belt would allow her. Streetlights cast their yellow glow on her face, but she paid them no mind. Her gaze was fixed upon the many stars that were spread throughout the universe, shining brightly through the breaks in the clouds as they burned millions of miles away.

She wistfully smiled at their glorious beauty and began to think about what would it be like if she were far away, passively observing the lives of the billions of people that inhabited this world. She felt her body and mind change in that moment as a revelation made itself known to her and a figurative cleansing fire swept through her, incinerating and completely changing the chemistry of her very being.

Aelita died that night, and from her ashes, Zoey rose.


End file.
